Redemption
by HannonsPen
Summary: Not knowing the backstory for James, Sally Ann's villainized older brother, drove me crazy during Outsiders (still does). There were plenty of opinions amongst us cousins ;-) but this is my take.
1. Chapter 1

He opened his locker and stripped off his work shirt, hanging it carefully inside. Ignoring the hyped up chatter of shift change all around him, he hurried through getting dressed. Quickly, he checked his watch. _7:04 - I've got just enough time._ As he slipped a t-shirt over his head, his stomach rolled. _Nope._ _No punking out. It's time to face this head on._ Reaching into his locker, he grabbed his jacket and walked out into the cold night air.

Walking the five blocks to Trinity Baptist Church, he barely registered the swarms of people jostling him, bar hopping or rushing to their dinner reservations. After the first two blocks, the lights and noise of nightlife were behind him and the refreshing smells of grass and fireplaces from the surrounding neighborhoods calmed him. He opened the side entrance to the church and followed the sign to the small dining hall to be greeted by the smell of coffee and low voices in conversation.

* * *

"Hey, uh everybody…my name's James and I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi James," they chorused back.

"I am 67 days sober today."

A smattering of applause echoed in the small room.

He gave an embarrassed smile and fidgeted with his jacket. "Thanks."

Clearing his throat, he looked around at the people who had been with him on this journey for the last 90 days. They had encouraged him every time he slipped up. Every time he drank to forget or because the memories were too much, they reminded him that it wasn't failure unless he stopped trying. They listened. He trusted them.

"I had something I wanted to share…" He was starting to sweat. Wiping his forehead, he muttered, "Sorry."

"Take your time," somebody said from the left side of the circle.

He smiled awkwardly, "Thanks." He took a deep breath, "I had a friend…named Breece back home. Uh…there was a lot going on in our town then…" James faltered, shaking his head, "No…sorry, that doesn't matter."

Taking a deep breath, he started again, "Look…we were idiots…drunk, stupid idiots. I mean, not Breece! Me an' a couple other guys…We—we tried to set a woman's house on fire…on purpose. There were a lot of problems between our town and her… well, her whole family really but…I don't know why we thought doing that would help things but we did it– like monsters." He kept his eyes down, not wanting to see the looks on their faces. "Alcohol can't excuse it…we _were_ monsters. I mean, who does that? Breece came to stop it…to stop us. We were too hopped up to listen to him. And he stayed behind while we ran away, to…to try to put out the fire we started…The family of the woman who lived in that house, they grabbed him and they killed him for it. They shot him in the head for something we did. Because of us, he's dead...no – because of me."

He clutched his pant legs with both hands, needing the strength to power through it all, leaving nothing out.

"They would have listened if I had told them not to do it. They would have gotten more drunk and more stupid, but they wouldn't have gone up there to hurt anyone. Not just the two of them…they weren't, like leaders, you know. They were followers." Saying it out loud, James felt sick. "My friend is dead and I can't change any of it, you know what I'm sayin'? His wife lost her husband…his girls lost their father…his parents lost their son, 'cause of one stupid, _stupid_ decision! Those other people may have pulled the trigger but, but it was our fault. He was only there because of us."

"I-I wrote her a letter…to his wife, I mean. I haven't mailed it yet. I don't know if I should or - damn…I don't know what I'm thinking. I mean, she don't owe me a fucking response or anything, right? It just feels like she deserves to know he was doing a good thing…he was a good guy. He was a really good guy. How do I ever make up for that?" He ran out of steam, his whole body seemed to deflate, "How could I ever make amends for that."

His mind was racing through the things he wasn't saying. The things he did that scared him. In his mind's eye, he could see the fear in Sally Ann's eyes when he grabbed her, when he screamed at her. He could see that boy Hasil's face, smashed - his body, tied to the chair. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the images stayed. They were always there.

James raised his eyes from staring at the floor slowly, afraid to look around the room, as if they could all see the slideshow in his head. "That's it, I guess. Thanks for listening."

A hand squeezed his shoulder, meaning to comfort, but shame and guilt were the only things he could feel.

* * *

James tossed his keys on the counter and plopped his bag of Chinese food down next to them. His apartment was tiny, minuscule really - less than 500sq ft, but being in a restored building it was like a new build. He was lucky to get it. He stripped down and took a long look at himself before he got into the shower. When he stopped drinking he replaced it with working out. He'd lost all traces of the body fat that the alcohol and being unemployed had gifted him. He kept his facial hair and hairstyle shaped religiously. His barber joked that if he lost all his clients except James he'd still be able to keep the doors open. No more old shirts, no rumpled jeans - as if all the grooming in the world could somehow straighten his insides out, too.

After his shower, he stared at his reflection in the steamed up mirror. _Nope. That crap in there is a completely different mess._ Drying himself off, he tried to shut down his negative thoughts, telling himself… _Criticism is fruitless. You have a good job and a decent place, so stop it. Go eat and go to bed. Get up tomorrow and do better._


	2. Chapter 2

He woke up nauseous. He always did when he dreamt of their mother. He rolled out of bed and went straight to the kitchen to gulp down a can of V-8. It was the only thing his stomach could take on a heavy morning like this. He pulled on a pair of gym shorts, leaving his chest bare and opened the front room's window to go sit out the fire escape before lighting a cigarette. Bombarded by memories, he sat there watching the city coming to life.

* * *

 _The day he ran into their mother was etched painfully onto his heart._

 _This job could get both himself and Sally Ann out of Blacksburg for good. Give them both a chance of a life away from all that the struggling town encompassed. Walking down the block, he had looked down at his watch. He wanted to be at least 20 minutes early for his interview. Right on time, he thought, smiling to himself. And when he looked up, there she was – just standing there, leaning with her hip against the last machine in a row of newspaper dispensers. He stopped so abruptly, the person behind him yelled a few choice insults before walking around him, still fussing._

 _James didn't care, he just stared at her. His mind was racing with questions. What is she doing here? Has she been here all along? Just four hours away from us? Is this the new life she said she wanted when she left them? But his heart…his heart was leaping. Mama! He was flooded with feelings of love for her that he didn't know he had left. In an instant, he went from being a man to being a boy again, with a need for his mother's love. It was his heart that made his feet move towards her before his brain registered what his body was doing. His brain didn't kick in until he was a few steps away._

" _M-Mama?"_

 _She looked at him, startled, then coolly looked away. Confused, he took the last steps towards her. Suddenly she smiled, waving at someone somewhere behind him. James' heart stopped, he knew that smile. Turning up the wattage on her smile and started to walk around him._

" _Mama! It's me, James!" Her smiling face turned into a scowl. Her eyes zeroed in on him and he'd swear she turned her nose up a little. He could feel prickling sweat forming under his arms. His brain was on full alert. He knew that scowl, too. She had worn it on her face every day the last year she was home with them._

 _Placing her hand on her hip, she postured sassily, "And do I know you, Mister James?"_

 _James blinked, frozen under her all too familiar glare. His mind was screaming, "Do you know me? DO YOU KNOW ME? I was 16 when you left, not 4. Look at me. Look at me!" His face flooded with heat. His anger rose up, exploding through the surface, helping him find his voice._

" _Yes, you know me," he ground out, his scowl now matching hers. "I'm your son. James. Micheal. Lewis."_

 _Her eyes went flat for just a second then her scowl changed to a look of utter disgust._

" _Nigga, I ain't got no kids!" She spat._

 _James didn't remember her walking away. He didn't know how long he stood there, forcing the foot traffic to make their way around him. The shock of her words had rendered him immobile. He was shattered. Humiliated beyond anything he could comprehend…absolutely destroyed._

* * *

 _When he parked his car beside the apartment building he and Sally Ann called home, he didn't remember any of the four hour drive to get there. He sat outside in the car taking slow deep breaths, trying to clear his mind but her voice was still ringing in his ears…"Nigga, I ain't got no kids!"_

 _He walked into the house to find Sally Ann sitting on the couch doing her homework, with the TV on._

" _Hey James!" she looked relieved. "Those people in Lexington called. They said you never showed up. What happened to you? You get lost or something?"_

 _He rubbed his face, thinking… 'Be damned if she wasn't looking more like mama.' He had never noticed before._

" _Ugh! What's that face?" she asked, wrinkling her nose. "Why you looking at me like that?"_

" _Don't worry about that job, just get your work done, alright?" he muttered. He shuffled into the kitchen suddenly bone tired. This whole day was weighing him down. It felt like gravity was pushing him through the floor. The TV seemed too loud and sharp to his ears. The kitchen light, too bright. His head started to throb._

 _Oblivious, Sally Ann trailed behind him, stopping in the doorway. "But where did you go if you didn't go to your meeting?"_

 _James placed his hands on the counter keeping his back to her, slowly balling them into fists. "Sally Ann, just go get your work done and leave me alone!"_

" _Okay! Okay! I'm going. You ain't got to get all snippy, Mister James."_

 _He felt the air suck out of the room. In his head, their mother's voice mocked him_ , _**'And do I know you, Mister James?'**_

 _He spun around, "What?! What did you say?"_

" _I-I was just saying—"_

" _Nothing!" He yelled, "You ain't sayin' nothing!" He pointed at her from across the kitchen, ignoring the fear in her wide eyes. "Matter a fact – I am the only goddamn adult in this house! So you listen and do what I say! And I said go get your damn homework done!"_

 _He felt nothing but rage looking at her stunned face. A tear slowly trailed down her cheek. He turned away and snatched open the refrigerator. He heard her run into her room and slam the door._

 _He never told Sally Ann about seeing their mother that day. He never told her what she had said to him. And their relationship was never the same._

* * *

James stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray he kept on the platform and swung his body back inside the window to dress for work, already exhausted before his day had even begun.


	3. Chapter 3

James needed sleep, but he wanted a drink. He made it through his shift just fine, but now that he was home, alone, the four walls were closing in on him, trapping him with his thoughts. All night he tossed around in bed, unable to stop thinking about the last time he saw Sally Ann. How she screeched off into the night because he had found that damn pregnancy test. She had bitten him to get away. It was unbelievable how bad it was between them.

Stupid. He told himself. Why was I so stupid? I didn't even let her get out of the car before I jumped on her case. Yelling in the middle of the street like crazy person. Why was I trying to open the car door? I was so out of control.

* * *

 _The day deputy Fultz came by to tell him they'd found his car was a nightmare. That bastard took forever to tell him that Sally Ann wasn't trapped in the car or dead. Or that there was no evidence- blood or otherwise that suggested that whoever crashed the car had been injured._

 _Where was Sally Ann? He called the few friends of hers that he knew and went to her job. She was nowhere. It was like she'd vanished. That night started out with him dreaming of Breece's death. Then he had a series of bloody nightmares where he kept finding Sally Ann dead from the crash. By morning he was a mess._

 _When Sally Ann was there he drank to keep back his anger, it was mild. He just kept a buzz going, but this was entirely different. He couldn't fight his conscious and memories and fear all at the same time. For seven days straight he was completely hammered. Every day, hoping she'd walk through their door but every day that she didn't he felt even more guilt._

 _After the first week, he was forced to leave the house for food and to replenish his alcohol supply. When he came back, Sally Ann's things were gone. Her closet was empty. Every trace of her, her pictures, her books, all the knick-knacks she kept lined up on her windowsill…all gone. She even cleared out the bathroom of all her hair products and soaps. He was devastated. He figured she had waited for him to leave and came in like a thief in the night._

" _Are you really that scared of me? Don't you know this is your home, Sally Ann?" He asked aloud as if her empty room wasn't obvious enough. He didn't want to face that he already knew the answer. He could hear himself yelling at her in the street when she drove away that night…"If you leave, don't you come back! Don't you ever come back, you hear!" At that moment, standing there in her room's nakedness, he was forced to accept that he had finally run her away. Overwhelmed by his mistakes- his choices, he let alcohol take the next two days from his memory._

 _He was barely sober enough to function when he cashed his insurance check from the totaled car. The next day, on unsteady legs, he loaded all he could onto a friend's truck bound for Memphis Tennessee. He put everything but his clothes into a self-storage unit and spent the next two weeks in a rundown, weekly rate motel looking for work. He found daily AA meetings within walking distance of the motel and after being hired, his job. At first, he kept to himself, always sitting in the back of the bigger group meetings; avoiding sharing at the smaller, more intimate ones._

 _Regardless of how uncomfortable he was, James went faithfully, whether he was sober or if he had taken a drink that day. No matter what – he went. After a couple weeks, he started going back to the one particular church for his meetings, building a rapport, building trust. Eventually, he asked for help finding a sponsor. Micah was a godsend. He was patient and kind but also a man's man, who took no crap from him. No excuses. They went through it all together. James didn't have an easy time of it, he messed up sometimes but he never went back to the drunken stupor he lived in when he lost Sally Ann._

 _Sally Ann._

Groaning, he slammed his eyes closed, willing sleep to come. It didn't. He couldn't shake off what he was feeling. With bleary eyes, he watched the clock turn, minute by minute, from 11 to midnight. Punching his pillow in frustration, he knew he had to do something, so he jerked back his covers and got up to make the call.

* * *

James stood outside his building, smoking with his sponsor.

"I'm glad you called, James. It's impor—"

"I found her," he blurted.

"Who?"

"My sister."

"You're kidding."

"Nope." James shrugged and took a long drag from his cigarette.

"That's great, man!" Micah studied James' face when he didn't respond. Sensing a problem, he started fishing, "Okay…How'd you find her?"

"An old girlfriend back home told me where she's working now."

"You call her? What'd she say?"

James exhaled, "I didn't call…I can't – I feel like…the biggest asshole." James bent down and crushed his cigarette, flicking it into the street. When he straightened up, Micah saw the turmoil on his face. "I was supposed to take care of her. Me! And I didn't. I ran her away."

Micah grabbed his arm, "Wait a minute, man. Sure, you made the wrong choices in the end, but every day _before_ that you _did_ take care of her. If you're gonna go backward in your head – go all the way back!"

"I know. I know."

Micah released his arm, "Look, she's your sister."

"I know." James shook his head, "I know that's true but right here," he thumped the side of his head with a finger. "Right here, I fucked her up."

Micah watched his eyes start to fill. "How long since you seen her?"

"Bout five months," he sniffed, blinking and wiping at his eyes, pulling himself together. "Yeah…five months now. But we weren't cool for years bef-"

Micah cut him off. "Call her."

"But—"

"Call her, James. You can handle it now. If she's mad at you – you earned it. If she's not, then hallelujah, man. You can't 'what if' something like this. You can't decide for her."

James looked scared to death.

"Look, man...if you want, I'll sit with you while you make the call, alright. You're ready. And you're not going to get much farther if you don't deal with this. Just tell her. Everything."

James shook his head slowly, "What if I can't?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

* * *

James stubbed out his third cigarette and slid through the window back into his apartment. Plopping down on the couch he checked the time and picked up the phone. He noticed his hand was trembling. _Jesus._ He put the phone back down and rubbed his sweaty hands on his jeans before taking a deep breath and picking up the scrap of paper where he wrote the number he'd found online. Dialing slowly, he considered just hanging up. When he heard it ring on the other end, he thought he'd vomit.

"Thank you for calling JTB Accounting, how can I help you today?"

James stopped breathing. She always had more of a southern slide to her voice than he did. He cleared his throat but still couldn't get out any words.

"Hello? This is Mr. JT Batton's office. How can I help you?"

James' voice came out low and gravelly, "Sally Ann?"

"Yes," He could hear the smile in her voice. "This is Sally Ann –"

"I'm sorry." He blurted, his voice was practically a whisper. His eyes welled up with tears, his throat constricting. He couldn't get out another word. The silence from her end was killing him.

"James?"

He let out a shaky sob.

"James, is that you?"

Her voice came across the line without a trace of anger in it. He felt like a fool trying to stop his tears. _God, help me._ This was his chance and he couldn't pull himself together enough to complete a sentence.

"Baby girl," he croaked out.

"Oh, James," she said softly.


End file.
